


The Five Times Dick Carried Jason and The One Time Jason Carried Dick

by OneLastMiracle



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Five time one time, Gen, M/M, Short One Shot, batbros, batfam, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneLastMiracle/pseuds/OneLastMiracle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six short stories detailing Jason and Dick's relationship through the years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times Dick Carried Jason and The One Time Jason Carried Dick

The  **first** time Dick carried Jason was when they were kids, Jason was 9 and Dick was 14. They were playing out back of the manor, practicing their patrolling moves, while Bruce attended to Batman things in the cave and Alfred made lunch.

Dick was showing off, flipping and twisting among the trees. He beamed as he stuck the landing of a 1080° twist, a particularly hard trick that had taken him years.

Jason, ever the competitor, snarled, “I bet I could do that, easy.”

"I doubt it. Bruce can’t do it."

"I’ll bet you I can. Twenty bucks."

Thinking the younger would get to the top of the tree limbs and chicken out, Dick nodded. “You’re on”

One sickening  _crunch_  later, Dick was carrying his younger brother in on his back, hollering for Alfred. 

As the butler tended his dislocated shoulder and bruised spine, Dick handed over the $20.

 

The  **second**  time Dick carried Jason was a few years later, when he was established as Nightwing, and Jason was really coming into his own in the role of Robin. They were patrolling on their own tonight, Bruce dealing with Ra’s al Ghul. 

It was a run of the mill night, nothing fun, no psychopaths running the streets. It was on nights like this, they practiced maneuvering the roof tops, racing as quickly as they could manage from one to the next, across the entire city. 

It was one of the few times the brothers weren’t arguing, and simply enjoyed the harmless competition with one another. Nightwing, as per usual, was far ahead of Robin, stupid advantage of years more training and also longer legs. In his efforts to catch up though, Robin may have miscalculated a landing, and took it hard, rolling roughly with far too much momentum, he careened off the next ledge, unable to jump or reach for it and he was falling. 

Before he could get a batarang from his belt, something caught him heavily, and his movement changed from vertical to horizontal as he swung to the next building. Robin crossed his arms, none too pleased with himself. 

"Y’know, usually when I catch people, they say thank you." Nightwing grinned as he placed the other on the roof top.

Robin grimaced. “Don’t tell Bats.”

 

The  **third**  time Dick carried Jason was at his funeral, and Dick was a Pall-bearer.

The elder brother cried silent tears as he carried his little brother, only fifteen. This wasn’t how this was meant to go, younger siblings weren’t meant to die before they had really lived. 

Dick watched, eyes blurred as they put Jason into the ground. He couldn’t give his speech.

 

The  **fourth**  time Dick carried Jason, Dick had never expected to see his brother again after all this time, never mind insane and still half-dead. He saw Jason wandering the streets, and followed him, wondering if his own mind was playing tricks on him, if he was delusional from grief. Tim said it could happen.

When he had enough proof that it  _was_  Jason, Dick confronted him, expecting an explanation, not an attack. This wasn’t Jason, not the Robin he grew up with and helped train. This was a broken soldier who’s only instinct was to kill. Which made him much harder to fight. Eventually, and after many wounds, Dick was able to knock Jason unconscious, with plans to return him to the manor, to try and see why his dead brother was alive and wandering the streets of Gotham at night. 

Except now his little brother wasn’t so little. He was as tall as Dick, and heavier set with muscles. He had no choice but to fireman carry Jason all the way back to the cave, crazy and all.

"You’re so much heavier than I remember, Jaybird."

 

The  **last**  time Dick carried Jason, was when they were sparring. The boys didn’t get along so much anymore, and one of the few times they could stand each other was when they were fighting. Jason usually won; he was more brutal and willing to go to extreme lengths to win (probably a result from always being second best to the golden boy).

But this time was different. Jason was mad about something, truly angry, and when he fought when he was mad, he was more violent then ever, ruthless- last time, he’d put Tim in a cast for a month. So Dick tried something else: he used his agility in his favor, dodging every attack Jason tried. “Come on Jay, you’re not even trying!”

Jason grunted and swung a heavy fist to an uppercut with no recipient. He seethed. “Dickie, fight me.”

"No."

"I always knew you were weak."

"Weak?" Dick repeated, grinning. He pivoted, ducked, and threw Jason over his shoulder, carrying him around the cave, not letting go despite the other’s attempts. "If I’m weak then I couldn’t carry you, Jaybird!" He laughed.

Jason, realizing the only way out was through, frowned and crossed his arms, giving Dick the satisfaction of parading around.

 

And the  **one**  time  _Jason carried Dick_  things were bad. Like, really bad. Jason had been investigating a child prostitution ring, and happened upon a familiar face, blowing Dick’s cover, leaving them in a horrible situation. 

Despite the fact the two were the top fighters in Gotham, no one stood a chance against a warehouse of 200 enemies with guns. Even Superman would struggle. It was only so long before one of them was injured and they’d be forced into a corner, no way out. 

Dick was shot twice, his shoulder and stomach, through and throughs, .40 cal, large exit wounds. They’d taken refuge in an office, barred the only exit, and were counting moments until it gave way. No back-up, comms were down. “Dickiebird, how bad is it?” Jason kept his voice calm and flat. But they both knew. 

"I- uh" Dick tried to laugh, but only wincing. "-dunno." They’d done what they could, formed two compresses, and Jason had done crude stitches to his stomach, to keep organs where they were. The bullet had missed his spinal chord, thank god. But there wasn’t much more to be thankful for.

Jason was on his last clip, and 50 more goons were between him and the exit. Yes, he was always a bit of a gambler, risk taker, but the chances of all this, with Dick like he was, Jason wasn’t an idiot. “We need a plan.”

"Yea…."

"I’ll carry you."

"Are you kiddin’? You can’t carry me."

"Why not? It’s the only way, and I’m not leaving you behind. Bruce would kill me. Again."

Dick’s chuckle made Jason flinch. “I’ll pick you up, break the window, land on the cargo boxes, and jackpot.” 

"Y’ think they won’ shoot you?"

"I’ve been shot before, it ain’t nothing new. And Its the only chance we have."

"Leave me."

"No."

"Jay…"

"Not an option."

"One of us can make it out ‘f I stay…"

Jason’s fist connected solidly with the floor. “No, dammit!! I will _never_ leave someone to die! Not after all this!”

"It’s okay, Jay…"

"Dick, I’m not leaving you here. Now shut up, hold onto your compresses, and try not to bleed out in my arms okay?"

"What are you-" Dick asked, startled as Jason scooped his hands aroung his shoulders and under his knees. "Bridal style?" He arched a brow.

Jason made a face. “Do you  _want_  my shoulder in your bleeding, wounded stomach?” Dick blanched. “Thought not. Now hang on, it’s a bit of a drop.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to write more of these types of things, please let me know if you'd be interested or what I should do next in a comment or message. Every read is appreciated!!


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